


The Musings of Matt

by MaxWrite



Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, RPF, Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-14
Updated: 2005-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew, Devon, Jamie and James and Oliver are at yet another convention, and Matt and Dev notice the twins acting oddly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Musings of Matt

**’Sup With James?**

I could see them coming. The fangirls, complete with Gryffindor ties and knee socks. They were approaching us, casting little glances our way and whispering to each other. I looked over at Devon; big grin on his pointy little face. I looked over at Jamie; trying to look like a tough guy, like usual. I looked over at the twins. Oliver seemed fine. But James … um …

The girls finally reached us. James smiled pleasantly enough, but his eyes remained blank and empty. Didn’t used to be like that. He didn’t used to hang back and lurk in corners. I mean, he was always kinda quiet. Both twins can be, but James is especially so these days. It’s like he’s lost something. Or _is_ lost, I dunno. More often than not, he lets Oliver speak for him.

“What’s up with you?” I asked him our second night in Toronto. “You seem, I dunno, deflated or something.”

He shrugged. “I’m just tired.”

And that’s all I could get from him on the subject.

The giggling of the girls reached a particularly high pitch, and I noticed James wince a little. I watched him, as discreetly as possible, as he stood there silently. He only spoke when he was directly addressed.

Ollie’s a natural at this. He’s got this sweet, soft-spoken, yet somehow come hither way about him. That slightly crooked smile. There’s a look in his eyes that can turn normally intelligent, well-spoken individuals to putty. Thing is, I don’t think he does it on purpose. I think his natural demeanor just comes off as flirting.

I glanced at James again. He was watching his brother chatting with the girls. I noticed a faint line appear just between his brows.

Or maybe it was just my imagination.

 **One of These Things is Not Like the Others**

Friday’s Q&A:  
 **Q:** What do you see yourselves doing after _Harry Potter?_  
 **Oliver:** I’m not really sure yet. This acting thing was kind of out of the blue.  
 **James:** What he said.

Saturday’s Q&A:  
 **Q:** What do you see yourselves doing after _Harry Potter?_  
 **Oliver:** I’m not really sure yet. This acting thing was kind of out of the blue.  
 **James:** What he said.

Sunday’s Q&A:  
 **Q:** What do you see yourselves doing after _Harry Potter?_  
 **Oliver:** I’m not really sure yet. This acting thing was kind of out of the blue.  
 **James:** What he said.

Monday’s Q&A:  
 **Q:** What do you see yourselves doing after _Harry Potter?_  
 **Oliver:** I’m not really sure yet. This acting thing was kind of out of the blue.  
 **James:** I’m actually leaning more towards working behind the camera.  
 **Jamie, Devon & Me:** o_O

“Since when?” I asked James at dinner. “Since yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I’m just not sure I’m cut out for this,” he muttered.

“I don’t think so either,” Devon chimed in. “You look terrible. Hey, can we smoke in here?”

James shot him a look. “Thank you, Devon.”

“I just mean you look tired. And you’ve looked worse every day we’ve been here. Those dark circles under your eyes, Jay. They’re _green._ That’s not normal.”

“He’s been having trouble sleeping,” said Oliver casually. “That’s all it is.”

The twins looked at each other then. I swear they can communicate telepathically. I got the impression James was thanking Oliver for answering for him.

“Shite!” cursed Devon. “Guys, I think I left my key card in your room earlier.”

“Take mine,” offered Oliver. “Go up and get it.”

“Great, thanks. Hey, uh, Matt. Didn’t you forget something up there too?”

“What? No - _Ow!”_

He kicked me under the table. Devon’s never been one for subtly.

“Oh, yeah,” I said through clenched teeth. “I think I did, actually.”

“Right, so we’ll be right back, ’kay, guys?”

 **Things That Make You Go … Ew**

“What the bloody hell is the matter with you?” I asked as we approached the lifts.

“Something’s up with them,” he replied conspiratorially.

“Oh. You noticed too, huh?”

“How could I not?”

“It’s probably nothing. Full moon tonight, you know. People are bound to act a little weird.”

“This isn’t full moon stuff, Matty. This didn’t just start.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“I mean, jeez, they might as well be wearing big signs that say, ‘Hi! We’re the Phelps twins! We’re fucking!’”

I don’t think my eyes have ever been that wide in my life. Felt like they were going to pop right out of my head.

“What’re you talking about?” I hissed, lowering my voice in the hopes that he would too.

“I thought you said you noticed!”

“I said I noticed something’s up, I never said anything about … about …”

“Them fucking each other?”

“Oh, my god, stop saying that!”

The lift arrived and we boarded. Devon smirked at me.

“Squeamish, are you?”

“About incest? Um, yeah, Devon, just a smidge.”

“Bah!” he exclaimed, waving a hand at me dismissively. “If it’s twins, it doesn’t matter.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “And how d’you figure that?”

“I dunno. It just seems less weird if it’s twins than if it’s, say, parent/child -”

“Ew.”

“- or uncle/niece -”

“Ew.”

“- or even siblings that aren’t twins.”

“Oh, ew.”

“And somehow -”

“Are you still talking?”

“- it seems even _less_ wrong if the twins are identical.”

“… I don’t follow.”

“Well, I can’t explain it, that’s just the way it is.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You think it’s hot, don’t you?”

“Which?”

“Them. The two of them. Together.”

“Bah!” he repeated, waving at me again, but there was an odd little smirk on his face and a slight blush in his cheeks. He seemed to reconsider. “Well …”

“I thought you were straight.”

“I am. For the most part. But twins,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Identical twins, Matty, that’s, uh … that’s something special.”

I rolled my eyes. “Doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause they’re not … they’re not …”

“Fucking each other.”

“You enjoy saying that far too much.”

“So, answer me this,” he said, as we stepped off the lift, onto the 25th floor and turned left. “Are you telling me you haven’t noticed some, erm, interesting closeness between them?”

“They’re _twins,_ Devon. I don’t know much about the bond between twin siblings, but I think it’s probably one of the strongest on earth, don’t you? Especially when they’re identical.”

“True. But I dunno. Sometimes they seem awfully snuggly to me.”

“Well,” I said authoritatively, “that started in the womb, I reckon.”

“Oh?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah. It’s probably just a throwback to when they were in utero. It’s probably an unconscious habit. I’ll bet they don’t even notice they do it.”

“… You’re just pullin’ stuff outta your arse now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted coolly. “But I think my explanation makes more sense than yours.”

“What?” he asked, with an evil grin. “That they’re _fucking?”_

“Stop saying that!”

We arrived at the twins’ suite, and Devon slipped Oliver’s key card into the slot.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said. “Did you really forget your key in there?”

“Matter of fact, I did. And I’m glad of it now. Gives us a chance to snoop.”

“Gives _you_ a chance to snoop, you mean.”

“Not interested, eh? Well, go back downstairs if you really don’t care to know the truth.”

I stood there, glaring at him, arms crossed, foot tapping. My brain was trying to tell my feet to start walking, to carry me back to the lifts, but the message wasn’t getting through.

“Heh,” he smirked. “Thought so.”

He pushed the door open. It was pitch black inside. I followed him in.

“Ow! What the -” exclaimed Devon. I flipped a switch, flooding the room with light. We both looked down. Devon had tripped over a shoe.

“Which one of them left that there?” he snapped.

“James. Obviously.”

It was clear which side of the room was James’s. His bed wasn’t made and was covered in clothes. A few lone trainers lay here and there, and an open suitcase sat on the floor in a corner, clothing spilling out of it.

Devon located his key card right away and immediately went to work digging through the pile on James’s bed. I stood by, hands in pockets, visibly disapproving, yet more than a little interested in what he might find.

The clothing pile yielded nothing. He moved on to the bedside table drawer.

“Such an invasion,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Oh, shut up. Ooh. What have we here?”

He straightened up, a small gray metal box in his hands, with both a combination lock and a key hole on the front.

“It’s probably locked,” I said. He raised his eyebrows and smiled triumphantly, as he pressed a button and the lid popped open.

“You’re going to hell, you know that.”

“Oh? You’re not stopping me, so where’re you going?”

“A lesser level of hell,” I replied dryly. “No fire or brimstone. Just a tad stuffy. More of a waiting room, really … with really old magazines about gardening … and horrible Muzak – no, talk radio being piped in all day long.”

“Humph,” he grunted, taking a seat next to James’s clothing pile. “Come. Sit. Join the invasion. Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?”

I sighed. “All right. But I’m going on record as saying I’m completely against this.”

“Sure, sure.”

I sat next to him and peered into the little metal box. There was a stack of very neatly folded paper inside. Devon plucked the one off the top and unfolded it.

“Looks like e-mail,” he said. “They must’ve printed them. Aw, how sweet,” he added with a smirk.

I wanted to say something, protest some more. But who was I kidding? I read over his shoulder instead. It was an e-mail from Ollie to James. _Re: What does a panic attack feel like?_ was what the subject line read.

“‘You’ll be okay,’” Devon read aloud. “‘You’re coming back tomorrow. Just remember to breathe. You forget sometimes, you know.

‘Now you mention it, it could very well be panic attacks you’re having. I’ll look up the symptoms for you. It sounds like they’re worse than they’ve ever been too. :( My poor Jay-Jay. I wish I could be there with you. I’d -’”

He stopped there and took a deep breath. He seemed to be trying to compose himself. He was bouncing slightly and he was biting his bottom lip, as though trying to keep from laughing, as though trying to contain his bursting giddiness.

“‘- I’d be holding you right now, comforting you. I’d lay you down and rub your -’”

“That’s it!” I interrupted, having finally found my backbone. “Put it away!”

“What? We were just getting started!”

“And now we’re finished! You’ve got your proof, now put it back where you found it!”

“But -”

“This is _not_ cool, Devon.”

He seemed to shrink a little as he gave in. He folded the e-mail and placed it back in the box.

“You believe me now, right?” he asked, putting the box back in the drawer. “Matty?”

When he turned to look at me, saw the uncertainty still in my eyes, his shoulders slumped and he cocked his head.

“You still don’t see it? Are you blind, man?”

“All we know for sure is that they cuddle a bit.”

“And _that_ doesn’t strike you as odd? It’s not just cuddling either, Matty, there’s also rubbing of … of … _things. Rubbing._ What about ‘Jay-Jay’?”

“We call him ‘Jay’ all the time.”

“Yeah, but not ‘Jay-Jay’.”

“I fail to see the difference,” I said wearily.

“The difference is Oliver’s never called him that in front of us.”

I searched my brain, sure I’d find at least one instance of Oliver referring to James as ‘Jay-Jay’ in our presence. I came up empty, so instead I said, “What does that prove?”

“It’s a secret nickname.”

“So?”

“If it didn’t mean anything, we’d’ve heard it by now. But they keep it private, just between them, because they _know_ it sounds suspect.”

“… Maybe.”

He shook his head. “You won’t believe it till they suck each other off right in front of you.”

“Maybe not even then,” I said casually. “And ew.”

“Oh, grow up.”

“Let’s go, eh? They’ll be wondering why we’re taking so long.”

“Right. But aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Huh?”

“Your iPod. You left it in here yesterday.”

“I did? I thought you only said that to get me to come with.”

“I did. But you actually did forget it in here.”

I glanced around. “Dunno where it is.”

“Have a look. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sure. See ya.”

 **Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For … Or Have I?**

I watched him go, then turned back to the room. I strolled over to Oliver’s side. His bed was perfectly made, and any personal possessions of his that weren’t hidden away somewhere, were stack and/or lined up neatly.

“They’re the bloody Odd Couple,” I muttered.

I found myself standing at the desk by the window and pulling the drawer open.

 _My iPod could be in here,_ I thought, as though I could actually make myself believe that. Inside was some stationary, hotel pamphlets, a long card with hotel extensions on it, a pile of James’s jewelry and a little strip of pictures, the kind you get from photo booths in shopping malls.

My hand was reaching for the pictures before I could stop it. I stared down at them, and James and Ollie smiled up at me, pulling silly faces, giving each other the rabbit ears, their heads together, their cheeks together, their mouths together …

Yes, in the final picture, they were clearly kissing. And my eyes weren’t bursting into flames or stinging or smoking or watering, and my brain wasn’t imploding. Not only was I able to look at the picture of them snogging, but it actually intrigued me a little.

But I was supposed to be looking for my iPod. I cast about, searching for a glint of matte silver that would surely be the little device. I walked away from the desk, my eyes repeatedly darting down to the pictures I was still holding in my hand … for some reason.

I wandered into the bathroom, knowing the light would be better in there. I flipped the switch and gazed down at the pictures again. That last one; I couldn’t stop staring at it. In my mind’s eye, that picture came to life, the static image became animated and the twins were kissing in slow motion, their mouths moving against each other, and every so often, a tongue became visible. James’s fingers were in Ollie’s hair. Ollie’s mouth was sliding down to his neck …

My phone vibrated and startled me. My heart began pounding ridiculously fast; I felt like I’d just be caught in the act.

“What?” I said into the receiver. It was Devon.

“You done yet?”

“No, haven’t found it yet.”

“Find anything interesting?” I could practically hear his devilish little grin.

“No, of course not,” I lied, sounding annoyed and glancing down at the pictures.

“Well, you tell me if you do. Don’t be holding out on me.”

“Whatever. Why’re you calling me?”

“Just wanted to warn you that the lovebirds are on their way back up. Wouldn’t want you to get caught looking at anything incriminating.”

“That is not what I’m doing.”

“Sure, sure.”

“G’bye, Devon.”

I returned my phone to my back pocket and sighed down at the pictures. I had to get them back into the drawer if the twins were on their way. I turned the bathroom light off and was about to step out, when the suite’s door opened.

 _Thanks for the warning, Dev,_ I thought. I hid the pictures in the inside pocket of my sport jacket and was about to step out again, when a snippet of conversation stopped me dead.

“Thank god we’re finally alone,” said James. “I’ve been dying to be alone with you all day.”

“I see they left the light on,” muttered Oliver.

“Relax, it’s not our electricity, is it?”

“It’s bad for the environment … How’re you feeling?”

James sighed. “Anxious. Worn out. Like the walls are closing in. Like there’re eyes on me constantly, watching everything I do.”

“Well, that last one’s not far off.”

“And what was with all the flirting?”

“I was not flirting.”

“You’re always flirting.”

“No, you just always _think_ I’m flirting. Relax, baby, lie down.”

I smiled to myself. Oliver called James ‘baby’? It seemed a little silly to me.

“I can’t relax.”

“Well, maybe I can help you with that.”

The talking stopped, and I knew what was happening. The lights went out, and I heard the curtains being opened. I moved cautiously toward the bathroom door and peered around it. Oliver was kneeling before James, who was sitting on Ollie’s bed. What Ollie was doing was obscured from my view by James’s bed, but I guessed, and guessed correctly, that he was removing James’s shoes. The moon was full and bright, and I could see by its light that he was carrying James’s trainers over to a corner, where he set them down neatly, side-by-side, removing his own shoes and socks while he was there. Then he returned to the bed and sat next to James.

I began to panic a bit when they started to kiss. I began to panic a lot when Oliver helped James out of his shirt and removed his own as well. I began to have trouble breathing when Oliver went for James’s jeans. I stopped breathing altogether when James’s penis made its appearance.

The twins are very well-endowed. You can all stop wondering.

 **The Lift Incident**

The twins have always been oddly close. I can’t count how many times I’ve given them the cockeye behind their backs after witnessing some bizarre twin behaviour. But I always just dismissed it, ‘cause, as I told Devon, I know nothing about twins and how their relationships work.

Well, I can’t say the whole twincest thing didn’t _ever_ cross my mind. Of course it did. How could it not? They’re twins. Twins just naturally lend themselves to all sorts of kinky scenarios. We all know that. But those thoughts were never serious. Well, they weren’t always, anyway. They were mostly just the sorts of things you can’t help but think because you know you’re not supposed to. They’d just pop into my head without my permission, especially when the twins were right in front of me.

I acted all shocked when Devon said he thought they were fucking, but honestly I was most shocked that I wasn’t the only one who thought that. I think what changed my mind, the thing that really got me wondering about their relationship, was the incident at Wizard Con 4. The five of us were going down to the hotel lobby, and the lift filled up with people, squishing and separating us. This should not have been that big a deal. And it wasn’t … for four fifths of us.

James was backed into a corner, looking very pale and a little bit like he wanted to either vomit or … well, die. I’ve never seen him like that. The only time that comes close is the PoA premier in New York, the one Oliver couldn’t attend. James didn’t seem quite as confident without his twin, not even with the rest of us there. But that was nothing compared to The Lift Incident.

James has developed a touch of claustrophobia, or something like that, and it was never more apparent than in that crowded lift that day. I think he actually did forget to breathe for a while. His eyes were darting. He was trying to make himself as flat against the wall as possible. And when he finally did start breathing again, it was in through the nose, out through the mouth, slow and steady, as though he was counting in his head. He was trying to be inconspicuous about it, but I noticed.

I heard his voice, and I almost didn’t recognize it. Oliver. He called to James, said his name, told James to look at him, to focus on his eyes. Something in his voice, some sort of calm, authoritative concern, but it was more than that. At that moment, one of those inappropriate thoughts popped into my head; he didn’t just sound like James’s brother anymore. He sounded like James’s lover.

No, I can’t explain how one can sound like someone’s lover without sounding or saying anything overtly, or even remotely, sexual. He just … did.

James calmed a little after that, maintained eye contact with Ollie until the lift emptied a bit and they were able to discreetly slide over to each other. They stood side-by-side, close enough that their arms touched. Oliver glanced at James once, then looked at us and started making conversation, clearly trying to draw attention away from James’s little breakdown.

I guess it makes sense that Ollie’s the only one who can bring James back when he freaks out, him being the closest person to James, being his brother. But it makes even more sense, I think, when you consider he might be James’s lover too.

 **The Science of Beauty & Vice Versa**

I could hear them now, hear their little moans and whispers, although I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. I know I heard an ‘I love you’. I might’ve heard an ‘I need you’. And I’m pretty sure I heard a little dirty talk, which I won’t repeat.

I began to pace.

 _I shouldn’t be hearing this,_ I kept thinking. _Why didn’t I step out the moment they came in? What was I thinking? What do I do now? Sit in the tub with my hands over my ears?_

It was an idea I seriously considered. I should not have been hearing them like that. Such an invasion.

I found myself at the door, peeking out at them again. I hated myself, but I couldn’t stop watching. The white moonlight was casting everything in a pearly glow, and, well, the scene before me was actually quite … beautiful. I don’t know why I thought it was. I don’t understand beauty. Well, who does, really? We know what we like to look at, and that’s that. I’ve heard there’s actually a science to beauty, that it’s not quite as random as we think. It’s weird, I think. That you can analyse beauty.

Although it does make some kind of weird sense that James and Oliver should be beautiful together. I mean, they’re pretty good looking apart, right? Devon explained it to a female of ours once:

>  _I like girls, right? So, why wouldn’t I like two girls together? That’s_ two _things I like._ Together. _Makes perfect sense. In fact, when you look at it that way, it would be stupid for me_ not _to like watching girls have sex. Utter insanity!_

Devon’s a strange little man, but you can’t argue with his logic.

Now, let’s extend that logic to identical twins. Yes, it’s incest, which is supposed to be wrong and, therefore, disgusting. But … but … well, if it’s someone you like … times two …

I like James. He seems kind of delicate, kind of innocent. Sheltered maybe. There’s a quiet mystery about him, even when he’s being talkative. There’s an almost haunting darkness inside him that threatens to suck you in if you look into his eyes too long. You could fall into those eyes. I want to touch him. Just a bit, he seems so breakable. I often have the urge to shield him from bad things.

And I like Oliver. His smile and his laughter are so genuine and contagious. He’s warm and inviting. He seems to glow. And he exudes this sensuality. He’s sexual, without even trying. There’s something in his eyes, some kind of animal intensity that’s completely non-threatening, but can overpower you. His gaze is hypnotic. He’s tactile, he loves to touch. And you want him to. _I_ want him to. A lot. I want to be taken by him.

Don’t tell anyone I said that. I’ll come after you. Honestly, I know where you live.

There is something special about identical twins together, something almost magical. James’s and Oliver’s differences make them real and desirable. But their similarities – mannerisms, speech patterns and any number of other things about them that are _exactly_ the same at times – make them seem almost mythical. And unattainable, like they should belong only to each other, and the rest of the world be damned. It does feel right that they should be lovers. It feels … natural.

And it’s two things I like. Together. That can’t be wrong, can it?

I hate it when Devon’s right.

 ** _HELP!_**

My phone vibrated again. Devon. I couldn’t very well answer it, so I declined the call and text messaged him back.

>  _I’m trapped in the twins’ loo!_
> 
>  _Um …_
> 
>  _ & THEY’RE ABOUT TO DO IT!!!_
> 
>  _O_O_
> 
>  _They came in & didn’t see me & now I’m stuck hiding in the loo & they’re naked on the bed and AAAAAHHHH!!!_
> 
>  _Why are you hiding in the bathroom?_
> 
>  _Don’t ask questions, just tell me what to do!_
> 
>  _I dunno. Enjoy the show?_
> 
>  _I hate you._

A few minutes pass, and then: 

> _Are they really gonna do it?_
> 
>  _YES!!!_
> 
>  _Ha! Told ya!_
> 
>  _OMGSTFU!_

 **Moon Dance**

People like to think of twins as being more similar than they usually are, because humans like it when things are simple, like it when things are black and white with no pesky gray areas, like it when things, ideas, concepts fit into little square boxes that can be stacked nice and neat in their brains, so that future reference won’t require any actual thought.

This, of course, is not how things generally work.

Take James and Oliver. They are biologically identical. They are not, however, the same, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. They even perform oral sex differently.

Now, the sixty-nine is the most overrated sexual activity since the threesome, we all know that. It’s only really good if you’re not involved.

I was not involved.

And it was good.

Ollie was lying on his side, facing me, leaning over James, while James was on his back, his face turned away from me. Both were stark naked and sucking quite contentedly on each other. And, my god, it was good.

Oliver is a giver. That much was clear long before I found myself spying on him and James from inside their own bathroom. And it was certainly clear by the way he was fellating his brother. He was paying close attention to every detail. The head and underside of James’s cock were well taken care of, and when his balls weren’t in Oliver’s mouth, they are being gently massaged in Oliver’s hand. He kept glancing at James’s face. Gauging James’s reaction to what he was doing, I’m guessing. It was more than sucking. He seemed to be tending James’s cock. His sucking was so thorough; every downward stroke, slow and calculated, and with every upward, he’d tilt his face up a bit, as though to show me the pleasure displayed on it. And his licks were so tender, almost like he was bathing James. I got the distinct impression this was his way of caring for James.

James, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying performing the act more than Oliver was enjoying having it performed on him. I never considered that one might perform oral sex for comfort, but somehow that seemed to be what James was doing. He seemed down right serene with Oliver’s cock in his mouth. He was sucking just on the head, as though he was deriving some sort of sustenance from it, at times holding it lightly with his fingertips, the way a baby would a bottle, other times letting his hands travel lightly over Oliver’s skin, over his hips and thighs and stomach. And all the while, just gently suckling. It was the sweetest, hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.

And whenever James would moan a little, Ollie would too. They were communicating through those little noises, like dolphins, in tune with each other, sending little signals to each other, signals only they understood.

Oliver removed James’s cock from his mouth after a while and began to masturbate him while watching him continue to suck. The intervals of silence between James’s little moans grew shorter and shorter. He began to squirm a bit. He took more of Oliver into his mouth, stopped about halfway down the shaft, and just held it there, just like that, ever so slightly turning his face from side to side, his eyes closed. It was the most content I’d ever seen him.

Oliver whispered something I couldn’t hear, and they began to reposition themselves. Ollie sat up, so James could lay his head in his lap. James did so, taking Ollie in his mouth again, and Ollie petted him gently and resumed wanking him off. James’s face was still turned away from me, but the rest of him was plainly visible. His legs were bent and open wide, so that they formed kind of a diamond shape on the bed. He began to thrust up into Oliver’s hand. He was mesmerizing to watch; the way his hips moved up, down and from side to side, the way his ribcage became visible every time he’d arch off the bed, the way his flat belly curved inward, those milky twin peaks that were his hipbones just begging to be kissed.

He was pumping faster and faster into Oliver’s hand, his own hands traveling slowly up and down his own body, one of them finally coming to rest on Oliver’s upper arm, the same arm that was working so hard to please him. His moans were breathy and frequent, and his flat, smooth chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Oliver took hold of his own cock and removed it from James’s mouth. James emitted a plaintive little groan, as though he hadn’t been quite finished, but turned his face away toward the ceiling anyway.

“Gonna come, baby?” whispered Oliver.

“Yes,” breathed James.

“Let me hear you,” Oliver crooned, his free hand once again making gentle passes from James’s hairline, back over the top of his head.

And as if on cue, James’s back curved up away from the mattress, making his ribs protrude again, and he let out a loud, throaty cry that sounded familiar to me. I’d heard that cry before, on my way to the ice machine one night during Wizard Con 3. I remember thinking, _Humph. That sounds like one of the twins,_ but I hadn’t really thought it was them.

It seemed as though his cum was being forced from his body by his grunts and groans. It landed on his chest and stomach until Oliver leaned over and took the head of James’s prick in his mouth, sucking every drop from him while continuing to milk him with his hand. James’s hands were all over Ollie’s back and in his hair, and they were flexing and clawing as he pushed spastically up into Oliver’s mouth.

James’s groans died away, and his body relaxed. He looked spent. He was panting, his face turned slightly towards me now, with his hands resting lightly on his chest. Ollie straightened up again and swept James’s hair off his forehead. James looked up at him.

“Feeling better yet?” asked Oliver.

“Quite a bit, actually,” answered James. “Now, we must do something about this,” he said, and began lapping at Oliver’s cock again, as though it was coated in sugar.

“And how would you like us to take care of it?”

James sat up with a sigh of effort. With his legs curled up on his left, his back to me, he leaned close to Ollie and said, “Make love with me,” in a soft, sweet voice. He leaned closer and kissed and nuzzled Oliver’s shoulder.

“Of course I will,” whispered Ollie, tilting James’s face back up and giving him a kiss that started out light and gentle, but quickly became hard and passionate.

The moon was moving across the sky. It was now situated nicely in the center of the window. It was so big and round and bright, it didn’t look real. I felt a bit like I was watching a movie. I still didn’t quite believe what I was seeing.

And they didn’t quite seem real anymore. The twins. Suddenly, they did seem like mythical creatures. The moonlight made their skin glow and their hair shine, and they’re so long and lean and … elf-like. Yes. If we’re going to compare the twins to mythical creatures, it should be elves, with their pale skin and long, slender limbs. That’s why they wear their hair on the longer side. To hide the pointy ears.

My phone vibrated again.

“Oh, my god,” I whispered.

 _Are they fucking yet?_ is what the message read.

I rolled my eyes. I carefully considered my reply, then typed, _Slag off, little man._ But I stopped just as I was about to send it. I erased it, and instead I typed, _No. They’re making love._

 **Deeper**

They lay down together, James’s back to Ollie’s front, both facing me now. I slinked a little further back into the shadows behind the bathroom door, pushed the door closed just a bit more, so less light got in. And I watched, watched Ollie watching James as he entered James from behind. Watched James scrunch up his face a bit, then relax and wriggle back against his brother, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. I could see Oliver’s hip, just behind James’s, start to pull back, then push forward again, then back, then forward. James made intermittent sounds, contented little noises, and closed his eyes. And Oliver, head propped up on an elbow, gazed down at him, caressed his cheek and his neck, gave his shoulder a squeeze before his hand continued down to James’s waist, gripping it as his thrusts grew harder and faster. James turned his face upward and looked at Oliver.

“Harder,” he begged, his voice just barely louder than a whisper. Oliver obeyed, lowering his face to James’s for a slow, hot kiss as he did so. And soon I could hear their skin slapping together, soon James’s little noises weren’t quite so little anymore. Soon, the bed was shaking and James was leaning forward a bit so he could push his arse back against Oliver harder.

“Yeah,” gasped James, as he gripped the edge of the bed. “Oh, yeah. Fuck me hard. Fuck me … yes!”

Perhaps the lust inside Oliver had reached its peak, or perhaps hearing his brother beg for it like that just drove him crazy, I dunno. All I know is the animal lurking inside Ollie, that dominant, feral thing I’d seen lurking behind his kind eyes so many times, reared its head. I swear I heard him growl. He pushed James over onto his stomach and laid on James’s back, his mouth right at James’s ear.

“Like this?” he rumbled, as he assaulted James’s backside. “Is this how you want it?”

That was indeed how James wanted it. He spread his legs and pushed up on his knees, raising his arse a bit.

"You're in so deep," he moaned, pushing back to meet Oliver's hips each time Ollie made a forward thrust. James pushed the pillows out of his way so he could lay his upper half flat, his back sloping gently upward as he assisted his brother in getting as far inside him as possible.

“God, you fuck me so deep, baby,” he said. “No on else … like you … there’s … no one … else … ungh.”

Ollie straightened up a bit and ran a hand along the smooth white skin of James’s lower back.

“How deep do you want it, Jay-Jay?” he asked in a deep, lusty voice that set my loins on fire. He positioned his knees further apart, took hold of James’s hips and said, “How ‘bout this?” and he began slamming into James, pulling back on James’s hips as he did so. I could see him biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brow from the effort.

James’s raised up even more, so that he was on his knees and elbows, his knees still quite wide apart, his head hanging, his fingers clawing the sheets.

“Is that deep enough, Jay-Jay?” asked Oliver. “Hm? Huh, baby?” His voice was a snarl, and yet still somehow sweet.

“YES!” James cried out suddenly, getting up on his hands and tossing his head back dramatically. His longish hair flew back, fanning out as it went, and he stayed like that for a moment – head back, back arched, neck extended elegantly, the most intensely passionate and wanton cries coming from his open mouth. Made me feel dirty just listening to him.

 _I shouldn’t be watching this._ I mouthed the words as I thought them. Yet I barely blinked. It was passionate and hard and bordering on violent. And it was perfect. Somehow … just perfect.

And when Ollie finally came, he leaned backward, letting his head fall back. The twins’ bodies have a strange, lanky grace, and I was in absolute awe of the length and slenderness of Ollie’s neck and torso, so delicately curved and perfectly positioned, his pelvis pressed right up against James’s bottom, and it excited me to no end knowing what was happening, knowing Ollie was filling James, his twin, with his cum. James clearly felt the same, as Oliver had stopped thrusting now, but James’s vocalisations kept on; he pulled a pillow close, buried his face in it and groaned and cursed into it, gently rocking his hips against Ollie as Ollie shuddered. I imagined Ollie was giving James a kind of gift, an offering, filling him with his love. It’s the stupidest, corniest thing that’s ever crossed my mind, but honestly, the thought was almost too much to bear. I stepped away from the door and leaned back against the counter just as Oliver was crumpling to the bed, scooping James into his arms, taking James down with him.

 **Was it Good For You?**

 _You are_ not _going to wank off in here,_ I told myself firmly. _You get that thought out of your head right now! Stop it!_

I took several deep breaths as quietly as possible. I could hear the twins breathing heavily, murmuring to each other. I removed my sport jacket. It was suddenly far too hot.

Then something horrible occurred to me; after sex, people sometimes like to use the bathroom, maybe even partake in a shower. I darted into the tub and drew the curtain closed, sat hunched in the corner furthest from the faucet and waited, sure I was going to be discovered.

Sure enough, the bathroom light went on. I held my breath, listened closely and heard … peeing. I chastised myself for giggling. Some sick little part of my brain was prodding me, begging my hand to reach forward, push the curtain aside a bit and have a look. I didn’t, of course. But I really, really wanted to.

“D’you wanna take a shower?” asked Oliver from the bedroom.

“Nah,” James called back. “I like walking round with you all over me.”

He flushed and washed his hands. Ollie joined him at the sink. This time I did sneak a peek. They were both still naked, and Ollie was holding James from behind while James fixed his hair.

“What would you like to do with the rest of the evening?” asked Oliver.

“Let’s go down to the bar. Suddenly I’m feeling much more relaxed.”

Oliver smiled. “Gee, wonder why.”

James turned to face him, and for a second, I saw him, all his, uh, bits and whatnot, full-frontal and relatively close up. And this time, it wasn’t in a dim, moonlit room. This time, there was more than enough light. My heart was pounding again as they kissed and nipped playfully at each other’s lips.

I realized all at once that this no longer seemed unbelievable and odd to me. It was no longer something crazy out of some movie. It was real now, and not only that, but it was _right_. In each other’s arms, naked, post-coital, glowing with love that was brotherly, and yet clearly more than that. I wondered how I’d react if I ever saw either of them with anyone else after that. I think I’d be very unhappy about it.

And I wondered how I missed it all these years? How did I not see it when it’s _right there,_ in their eyes. Devon saw it. _Devon._

 _I must be slipping,_ I thought.

Of course, Devon seems to have a kinship with all things subversive.

They left the bathroom, and I could hear them bustling around, getting dressed. I breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left the suite. I waited for a minute or two, just to make sure they were really gone. Wouldn’t want them turning up again, having forgotten something, just as I was leaving.

Deciding it was safe, I stood and exited the bathroom and left the suite. And who should be waiting for me in the hall, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, face smirking.

“Was it good for you?” asked Devon.

“Still hate you,” I said. “Did they see you?”

“Nah. I was waiting round that corner. Figured you’d be coming out before them, though. They didn’t catch you?”

“Amazingly enough, no. It was close though.”

“So?”

“… So what?”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “What did you see? Spill!”

“Oh.”

I walked away from him, toward the lifts.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” he asked incredulously.

“Nope.”

“Are you joking?”

“No. It’s none of your business.”

“It’s none of _your_ business either!”

“Yes, well, that really couldn’t’ve been helped, now, could it?”

“Not sure,” he said with narrowed eyes. “How exactly did you get trapped in their bathroom again?”

I cleared my throat and examined my nails. “Never you mind.”

“So, what was that ‘They’re making love’ rubbish? Making love, fucking, what’s the difference?”

“Of course there’s a difference,” I said, pressing the button for the lift.

“Oh, like you would know.”

“I do. Er, I do now, I think. Now, I’ve seen them do it. It wasn’t just fucking, Devon, it was a beautiful expression of -”

“Oh, _blech!_ Please spare me the poetry, all right?”

“That disgusts you? The boy incest is perfectly fine, but waxing poetic turns your stomach, does it?”

“Least I know where my priorities are.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Right, so, they were -” he made a derisive noise, “‘- making love’, as you call it.”

“Yes, they were,” I replied in a dignified tone. “So, that’s what I wrote back to you. Figured it’d shut you up.”

“Actually, what you wrote was ‘They’re making lote’, but I knew what you meant.”

“Humph.”

“You can’t tell me anything about it? Nothing at all? I promise, I’ll be all mature and not snicker or anything.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You promise?”

“Scout’s honour.”

He was never a scout.

“All right. Well, I’ll tell you this then: they are absolutely …”

“Yeah?”

“… unequivocally …”

“Go on.”

“… without a doubt …”

“Spill it, man!”

“… meant for each other.”

He goggled at me. “That’s it?”

“Mm-hm,” I said with a nod and a coy smile. The lift arrived and I stepped into it, hands in my pockets.

“I don’t get to hear the dirty stuff?”

“Nah. Changed my mind.”

Truth is, I’d never intended to tell him anything. I was just having him on. What I'd witnessed in that hotel room was something special, sacred. Telling him about it - I dunno. I felt telling him would cheapen it somehow.

“You’re a git, you know that?" he said. "And I still haven’t heard you declare, for all the world to hear, that I was right about them. ‘Cause I was, you know.”

“That’s true, you were. You were right, Devon. Happy?”

He blinked at me. “… No. You’re supposed to put up a fight, that wasn’t any fun.”

“Sorry. It’s just amazing, you know,” I said, leaning against the wall as the lift carried us down to the lobby. “I knew they were close … but sex?”

Devon snickered into his fist. “Heh, heh. Butt sex.”

“… Why do I hang out with you?”

“Because I take you out to eat. Hungry?”

 **’Sup With James?**

We exited the lift and walked in silence to the hotel’s dining room. We were seated, and Devon started talking about some girl he'd been chatting up while I was _spying,_ as he puts it. I tried to listen, but my mind kept wandering. How could it not after what I’d seen? I just smiled and nodded and made noises of acknowledgment whenever I thought it appropriate.

And there they were. I could see them just passed Devon’s head, in the bar, playing pool. They’re quite good, but it wasn’t their pool skills that interested me. I’ve watched them play before, but now … I found myself looking for the signs, the signs that had been right in front of me all this time. Those little glances, the way Ollie stays close to James, almost protectively, the giggly, almost girly way James laughs at Ollie's jokes; his nose gets all scrunchy and his eyes, they sort of twinkle. They don't do that for anyone else.

"What're you smiling about?"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked back at Devon.

"What?" I asked.

"You were smiling to yourself about something. What was it?"

He glanced back to see what I’d been looking at, but the twins had moved out of sight, to the opposite end of the pool table, flitted away into the shadows, like spooked gazelles. All Devon saw was James's long, slim, denim-clad leg disappearing round a corner. He turned back to me, frowning.

"Just, uh, remembering something funny," I lied. "It's nothing."

I didn't want to discuss it with him. He can't see it, can't appreciate it. The way they feel about each other. I kept it to myself, my stupid grin returning to my face despite my best efforts.

They came back into view, and moments later, fans approached them wanting autographs and pictures and conversation. And James seemed more than happy to oblige this time. He was as chatty as I remember he used to be. He was finishing Ollie's sentences, and Ollie his. Fans love it when they do that, when they do that twin thing, like “Fred” and “George”.

And he smiled. James really smiled. His nose got all scrunchy and his eyes twinkled.

They joined us eventually, as did Jamie. He leaned toward me and whispered, “’Sup with James?”

“What?”

“James. He’s, uh …” Jamie glanced at James again, then back at me. “He’s _smiling._ What’s that about? Is he all right?”

I smiled and shrugged. “Dunno. Full moon, I guess.”

END


End file.
